


Dinner for Two

by GoldenDearie



Series: Dealing With Extras [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDearie/pseuds/GoldenDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Isabel tells Gold not to pick her up one day, he immediately assumes the worst. He discovers her reason for doing so is not quite what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Two

Gold was fairly certain he hadn't moved so quickly in years, the creaking of the floorboards audible beneath him. The second he heard the jingle of Isabel's ringtone, he couldn't help but drop everything to make it to the noisy device. His heart moved as fast as his legs, and he swallowed hard, picking the phone up quickly. He took a deep breath, clicking the little green button as he flipped it open.

“Hey, love.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant, leaning his hip on the counter. Hearing from her always made his days a bit brighter, and he was curious as to why she called. 

“Hi Michael.” She said, her voice sweet and addictive, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. 

“How are you? How's work?” He asked, and he knew he'd storm down there if she said anything other than good. 

“It's good. That's actually why I'm calling. I just wanted to say not to pick me up.” She said, and his heart sank, his body stiffening. Clearly he had upset her, and now she was shunning him. He averted his gaze to the floor, swallowing hard. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes I am. Ah... Are you positive you don't need me to?” He asked, his heart pounding hard, sweat gathering at his hairline.

“Positive. I have to go. I'll see you later!” She said, and before he could protest or plead, she hung up. He slowly lowered the phone, his shoulders slumping. He searched through his brain, desperately trying to remember what he had done to displease her. For once, he truly couldn't think of anything, and it frightened him. Had he become oblivious to his own behavior? He usually knew and regretted his mistakes with her the moment that he made them. 

He flipped the sign at the front to closed and locked the door, making his way to the back of the shop. He sank down into his office hair, running a hand through his thick hair. He pulled a bottle of scotch from a cabinet, pouring it into a glass. Each sip allowed him to wallow deeper in his misery, and he leaned back in his chair, staring off at the ceiling.

What could he have done? Perhaps her anger at their arrangement was finally catching up with her. It wouldn't be the first time a woman was miserable at the thought of being married to him. Perhaps she was hiding something from him, planning to sneak off to a rendezvous with a man her age. That also wouldn't have been a first.

He took another drink.

He vaguely wondered if he should bring home a gift to her. It was a poor attempt to try and smooth things over, and he still wasn't very sure of what to get her. A book was the obvious choice, but he had already done that recently, and that would spoil her wedding present. He quickly stood, making his way over to a small chest in the corner. He opened it, pulling a small diamond pendant out, looking it over. Since their courtship had begun, he had wanted to give her it. For some reason he felt it belonged around her neck. He slid it into his suit pocket, closing the chest and returning to his seat. Hopefully his gift would at least make her open to the idea of talking to him, if not to forgiving him for whatever crime he had committed.

He spent the rest of the day in miserable silence, sipping his scotch and panicking over Isabel. His chest was tight, an anxious feeling about him, and it only worsened as he got in his car. He began the short drive home, his hands sweating as they gripped the wheel. He pulled up to the pink building he called home, slowly making his way up the path and steps. She likely wasn't even home, so the terror in his chest was unwarranted. He found the door was unlocked, and a small bubble of hope came to him. He slowly made his way inside, keeping his steps silent. He could hear a soft humming, and surely, if she was angry she wouldn't hum. He approached the sound, thumping on the floor extra loudly so he didn't startle her. 

He gasped as he entered the dining room. The table was set for two, candles casting a soft light. She stood beside it with a small, almost sheepish smile, and his heart pounded for a different reason. She was so beautiful it hurt.

“Hey.” She said, making her way over and kissing him softly, pulling away just as he craved more. He stared at her in shock before gathering himself, smiling.

“You did this for me?”

“You always do stuff like this for me. I figured it was my turn. So I left work early.” She said, and he shifted slightly, feeling incredibly stupid. He had spent the last six hours wallowing in fear and misery when the girl had just wanted to do something kind for him. It showed how utterly unused to such displays he was.

“Thank you. I truly appreciate it. No one has ever done anything so kind for me.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a tight hug, swaying her slightly. She pulled away and took his hands, leading him over to the table, and he sat down as she took two plates from the counter. She set down the chicken Marsala, looking somewhat shy as she sat, watching him. He took a bite, the flavors melting into his mouth, a quiet moan slipping out. “It's delicious.”

“Thank you! It was my mother's recipe. She left me a small cookbook she made.” She said, smiling down at her plate, her cheeks a light shade of pink. He vaguely realized he was gazing at her, mouth agape, so he focused on eating. “Was work okay?”

“Work was nothing special. I'm far happier to be here with you.” He said, and she giggled quietly, and he couldn't believe he could elicit such a response from her. He always had her laughing and smiling, and that had to have been good, because she wasn't laughing at him. If he wasn't so difficult to love, he would be sure she had even a trace of feelings for him. But when he thought of how wonderful and special she was, those thoughts faded, and the worry that she would leave set in. He had made it so she couldn't, but that would only last so long. She would never truly love him, possibly never even feel fond towards him despite her pretty words and gestures. 

What hurt the most about it all was that he was falling in love with Isabel French. At first he had felt no guilt about forcing the marriage. Then she moved in and he began to truly fall in love with her. The more he loved her, the more guilt he felt. But he was a coward, so he couldn't bring himself to let her go. If you loved something and let it go, it would come back if it was yours. She would never come back, because he was Michael Gold, and no one could ever, ever love him. 

“Michael? Are you alright?” She asked, and her hand was on his, and it burned his skin, because he wanted her so badly he could die. 

“I'm wonderful, darling. Absolutely wonderful.” He lied with a smile, and she smiled back, beginning to talk about trivial things. And though it was just about the book she was reading or her day, he listened with rapt interest. He was falling in love more and more with every word, because she was Isabel French, the easiest person in the world to love. He was a monster for keeping her from finding true love, but he was willing to be selfish for just a while longer. She was the best thing in his life, and he wanted to cling to that goodness for awhile longer. 

And maybe, just maybe, fate would smile on him, and she would someday love him too. Until that day, he would try so hard to at least make her happy, one smile at a time, one book at a time. He was absolutely smitten, and he was willing to fight for her, so he had a sliver of a chance. She clearly cared for him since she had made a gesture, so that was a start. He leaned over and kissed her mid-sentence, and he could feel her lips curl into a smile against his own. He went to pull away and she held him against her lips, and it was an even better start.


End file.
